


house, warming

by sodas



Category: Neon Genesis Evangelion
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-07-28 21:33:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7657507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sodas/pseuds/sodas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kaworu's taking his (sweaty) hands. (<i>Sweaty.</i> Shinji doesn't know if he'll ever stop being mortified when this happens.) Kaworu's leaning in and a little low, face tilting up to search for eye contact, like morning glories. Kaworu's smiling, even, in that sympathetic way which Shinji's most irrational parts sometimes fear is condescending. AU <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3sXQoGcMN1U">(?)</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	house, warming

**Author's Note:**

  * For [morthael](https://archiveofourown.org/users/morthael/gifts).



The wall is unadorned, wider and whiter than Kaworu's shoulders. Kaworu would call it "possibility." It just makes Shinji queasy. He's standing at the edge of the living area, holding a box labeled **FUN**. Kaworu must have packed it. It's probably got something inside that can go on the wall, giving it more than Kaworu's possibility and Shinji's panic. A poster or a long string of beads. It figures that Kaworu would—even unknowingly—provide something to bring the swelling down in Shinji's throat and heart. It figures that Kaworu would give a blank space purpose. That's true for more than just the wall. Here, now, Shinji's hands have the opportunity to be full. But even that way, he can't match Kaworu's palms worth for worth. 

"Is this where you're supposed to be?" Shinji asks. He cringes into himself even while the words are still warbling away from his mouth; he's hugging the box and his shoulders have lifted in a self-conscious gesture. He consoles himself by thinking that at least he wasn't very loud, but—

"Undoubtedly," Kaworu calls from the single bedroom down the hall. Of course. He's perfect in every other way, so _of course_ his hearing is good enough to alert him to Shinji's shame. There's a softened but pronounced thud from the bedroom and then the shuffle of feet over the wooden floor; and now Kaworu's poking his head into the living room, and grinning to boot. "The price really is great for what we've got. It's next to everything and the landlady is so nice. She gave us some sweet potatoes... Isn't that heavy?"

Shinji stares at Kaworu's smile, which must be enough to bake those sweet potatoes by itself. He can feel his face pulling into a grimace, but he can't stop it. Yeah, the box is heavy, and Shinji's barely gotten it into the apartment. He bends to set it on the floor with a sound both anguished and petulant. "That's not..." He sighs, then mutters, defeated, "That's not what I meant."

"No?" Kaworu's dusting off his hands as he leaves the hallway completely to come closer. "Want to talk about it?"

 _Not really,_ Shinji might say, but the desire — the flagrant _need_ for Kaworu's attention brings the truth to the surface in the way hydrogen peroxide makes a wound foam and fuss. Disgusting. Shinji knows it's disgusting, even as he can't help but confess to the person who's always trying to suck venom from his veins. "Not just... 'here,' this place. I know it's a nice apartment. I mean, like... here, with..." He's faltering, flustering, and curling his fingers against his sweaty palms. (He still doesn't know how Kaworu puts up with that.) It's obvious by now what he's trying to say, but he might as well see it through. "With me," he finishes lamely. 

He feels stupid for admitting this. He should have made something up, a lie less selfish; deceit isn't _that_ bad if he's trying to be positive, right? But he hates to lie to Kaworu. He's already misled Kaworu into thinking, _Oh, Shinji isn't so bad. Oh, Shinji's worth my time._ And he's making a big deal out of his own insecurities, too. Practically begging for Kaworu's care and consideration. He shouldn't have said anything in the first place; he's just forcing Kaworu to pander to him—

Kaworu's taking his (sweaty) hands. ( _Sweaty._ Shinji doesn't know if he'll ever stop being mortified when this happens.) Kaworu's leaning in and a little low, face tilting up to search for eye contact, like morning glories. Kaworu's smiling, even, in that sympathetic way which Shinji's most irrational parts sometimes fear is condescending. He strokes his thumb over the ridge of Shinji's knuckles, cloud cover over a string of mountains. "I want to be here." His voice is the softest gauze. "I want to be here," he says again, "you know? In this apartment, with sweet potatoes and the nearby grocery. In this apartment, with you." His lashes lower; he looks more joyful than the end of a drought. Kaworu likes to repeat the things Shinji needs to hear most, so, once more, as he clasps Shinji's hands, he insists, "With you." 

They kiss, then, positive reinforcement from either of them or maybe both. The way they kiss is a gentle, easy parting of lips, pressed together as if they are preserving flowers, _This is us,_ a relief. They used to do it like they were the legs of a foal, but they've each gained courage since then. Shinji, at least, is too desperate for anything Kaworu has to offer to hide from kissing. If anything, he's often the one mouthing at Kaworu for approval. He kissed Kaworu when Kaworu asked him if they could share an apartment, and he kissed Kaworu when they were approved to rent. He kisses Kaworu now, hoping that _With you_ means this, their warm mouths alongside all of Shinji's neurotic shortcomings. Even though Shinji doesn't specify with words, and even though Kaworu doesn't part their lips to speak, he knows Kaworu's saying, _Yes, yes, alongside it all._

The kiss breaks abruptly when Shinji startles himself with the realization of how much time he's wasted with his fretting and then his kisses. He'd been hoping to get all their essentials moved up and inside before the downstairs neighbors start dinner; he doesn't want to disturb them. Shinji guides Kaworu's hands away from himself and disentangles their fingers, frowning like a disapproving housekeeper, but red in a very telling way. "It's taking you way too long to realize you're in over your head," he mutters, admonishing and embarrassed. "I can't believe you've loved me since tenth grade." 

"Oh? Really?" Kaworu asks, and sometimes, like this, he's as old and pretty as ice caps. "It feels like longer."


End file.
